


The Start Of Something Interesting

by Punk_Peter_Pan



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Mikey Way (Mentioned) - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24301642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_Peter_Pan/pseuds/Punk_Peter_Pan
Summary: The diner food is gross. Its address is the middle of who knows where, some random city that Pete can’t remember the name of, the United States of America. He’s been picking at cold fries for over an hour, ignoring the feeling that maybe the deep-seeded ache in his belly isn’t hunger, but the gnawing tease of a crash.“You look like shit.” Comes the merciless, (a word which may be his new favourite, considering how he views the world at the moment) voice of a Way brother. It’s late, and he can smell smoke and coffee, but not the rotting smell of alcohol, so it’s Gerard.Pete opens his eyes. Gerard smiles softly at him and looks him up and down. Pete high fives himself in his head for guessing right.
Relationships: Gerard Way/Pete Wentz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	The Start Of Something Interesting

The diner food is gross. Its address is the middle of who knows where, some random city that Pete can’t remember the name of, the United States of America. He’s been picking at cold fries for over an hour, ignoring the feeling that maybe the deep-seeded ache in his belly isn’t hunger, but the gnawing tease of a crash. Fuck he doesn’t wanna crash again. The last time he did it there were conversations and worried glances and a ban on him touching sharp objects even though he was twenty fucking four and could take care of himself. His anger and discomfort fill the diner like smoke, clogging the arteries and the lungs of people who don’t deserve it. Pete’s choking on it. He sighs and his thoughts and perception crash back into his body, making him suddenly and uncomfortably aware of his surroundings. The clock mercilessly ticking on the wall reads 01:17 and it’s dark outside so that means he’s up past his bedtime. Pete grimaces and whispers a tiny, furious “shut up” at the clock. It does not stop ticking. It sounds like it gets louder. The kettle whistle is higher and he can feel the seams in his socks and the way his jeans bite into his hips. He can smell the grease of the bacon so strong it makes his stomach lurch and he can taste the sickly sweet remnants of his coffee in the gaps between his teeth. The leather of the booth seat feels too soft but too hard, too unwilling under him and he can make out the wood boning underneath its worn skin. The neon light outside is shining bright and unashamed, which should have created a nice stereotypical Americana glow, but instead makes Pete’s head ache. Pete shuts his eyes to try and block it out. Everything makes him flinch or curl his hands or bite into his cheek to stop himself from crying. Everything is so loud.

The bell over the door rings and Pete doesn’t open his eyes. 

There’s a pitter-pat of footsteps which seems to get closer, so Pete squeezes his eyes shut tighter.  
“You look like shit.” Comes the merciless, (a word which may be his new favourite, considering how he views the world at the moment) voice of a Way brother. It’s late, and he can smell smoke and coffee, but not the rotting smell of alcohol, so it’s Gerard.  
Pete opens his eyes. Gerard smiles softly at him and looks him up and down. Pete high fives himself in his head for guessing right.  
“You look like you haven’t showered in at least three weeks.” Pete bites back and Gerard giggles. Pete mentally high fives himself again. “Sit?”  
“Yeah, thanks.”

A waitress with a coffee pot in hand comes and Gerard pays her for a cup of black coffee with one sugar. Because he’s just cool like that. Cool enough and tough enough to take his coffee without the niceties of changing it, making it sweeter and more bearable. Pete drops the metaphor in his head before he gets attached to it, or more likely attaches himself to it.  
He distracts himself by saying, “You’re up late.” To Gerard, who has been not quite staring… but looking at Pete since he arrived.  
“Could say the same for you,” Gerard said softly.  
“I’m always up late.”  
“Mmm. But you aren’t usually hunched over in a booth with your face in your hands. So I have to assume something is different.”  
Damn the Ways and their perception. Gerard is talking in a way (ha) that doesn’t make Pete’s headache worse and distracts him from his own thoughts. Pete has the very sudden need to keep Gerard talking to him.  
“You have me there,” Pete said, taking in a gulp of air like it will fit his chest right. It doesn’t, and Gerard notices, placing his hand on Pete’s shoulder and squeezing.

Gerard leans backward and pulls out a cigarette.  
“Can I?”  
“Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.”  
Gerard lights the cigarette with a muffled snick, and he inhales deeply. Pete watches as the smoke leaves his lips in long, curling tendrils, twisting against itself and disappearing into the diner air. Pete’s brain impolitely tells him that Gerard is pretty when he smokes. It also tells him that he’s being kind of obvious by staring at Gerard’s mouth, which is now twisted up into a little crooked amused smile. Pete blushes and ducks his head down.  
“Sorry.”  
“For what?” Gerard asks, taking another drag like he knows what he’s doing to Pete. “It’s flattering.” He looks up and his grin gets bigger which makes Pete nervous. “Though last year the world told me you were kind of more prone to staring at my brother.”  
Pete flushes and Gerard meets his eyes before he can look away. “That was…”  
“Lovely.” Gerard finishes for him. “I’ve never seen Mikey that happy, even if you two would eventually be the death of each other, he was happy whilst it lasted.”  
Pete goes redder and hides it totally inconspicuously by putting his small hands over his hot cheeks. Gerard looks down and the smile fades from his face.  
“What?” Pete asks. Because he’s nosy.  
“Nothing. I just… Well I… Never mind it won’t come out right.”  
Pete nods. He knows that feeling well. He can’t help, however, to think it might be related to the… the… Jesus Gerard was right. Pete can’t even say it right in his head. The attraction. There. The attraction Gerard and Pete had and still have for each other. Even though Pete was in love with Mikey, he couldn’t then ignore, and can’t ignore now that Gerard is beautiful. Soft in some places, and perfectly sharp in others. Light brown eyes on soft, freckled skin.  
“You’re staring again.”  
Pete jumps and snaps out of it. Fuck. He totally messed that up for like… ever. It’s absolutely a moral sin to want to sleep with your ex’s brother. Like, in the bible, top ten sins. Don’t rape, don’t murder, don’t sleep with your ex’s siblings. But Gerard is smiling and takes Pete’s hand in his, bringing it up to his lips and kissing his battered knuckles. Like Pete is a prince. Like Pete is special. Pete’s heart thumps against his ribcage and if he thought there wasn’t enough air in the diner before, there certainly isn’t enough now. Not enough for one of them, certainly not for both of them. Pete laces his fingers with Gerard because hell has never stopped him and swallows again.  
“Flirt.” He says hoarsely.  
“I prefer tease, but flirt will do,” Gerard responds. He places money for Pete’s forgotten chips on the table and leads them outside, hand in hand. 

The alleyway is darker and quieter than the diner. Colder too. Not that it matters much when Pete is wrapped in Gerard’s kiss. It’s taking his breath. Gerard only lets him breathe when he decides he wants to and Pete is shockingly happy to let him have that control. Gerard walks him backward until Pete’s back hits the wall and kisses him again, cupping his face in one hand and his hip in another. Pete sucks on his tongue when Gerard finally licks across Pete’s lower lip and slips it inside Pete’s willing mouth. Gerard pulls back to breathe at the same time he rocks his hips against Pete’s and Pete’s head tilts back, baring his throat to Gerard. Gerard hums against his skin for a moment before sinking his teeth in making Pete gasp and rock his hips again. Gerard is so slow about it. He kisses him and bites him and licks him and moves his body so slow. So fluidly. Pete is trapped in between craving the intimacy it offers and wanting Gerard to finally get a move on. Gerard shoves a thigh between Pete’s legs, lifting him up onto his tiptoes so he has no choice but to grind down, steadily and consistently. Pete gasps before it's swallowed by Gerard grabbing his jaw and kissing the sound out of his throat. Pete’s hands find their way into Gerard’s hair and he gets to a point where he’s moaning against Gerard’s lips and grinding down purposefully when Gerard’s phone rings and he pulls away, leaving Pete slumped against the wall, panting. Someone talks to Gerard for a moment before Gerard tucks the phone in his pocket, gives Pete one last kiss, and whispers goodbye, disappearing into the night. Pete stays against the wall for a moment. He wants to chase Gerard but he also has the feeling that this is just the start of something. Something interesting… 

The taxi ride back to his tour bus is lonely, but when he gets into his bunk, he goes to sleep.  
And that’s enough. For the moment at least.


End file.
